


a legacy

by thisisthefamilybusiness



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst, Forgiveness, Gen, Gender-Unspecified Wyman, Grief/Mourning, Human Outsider (Dishonored), Parent-Child Relationship, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Wakes & Funerals, spoilers for death of the outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 09:36:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12454581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisthefamilybusiness/pseuds/thisisthefamilybusiness
Summary: “Corvo Attano was a hero,” Emily says, voice trembling. How could the Outsider even be here? He was trapped in the Void. “He will be remembered as one of the greatest heroes of our generation, but it is my hope it will not be because of whose blood he spilled or the names of those he fought for. It is my hope, instead, that he is remembered for his kindnesses. He was the greatest swordsman in his time, but he persistently sought non-violent solutions. He taught me the values of mercy and forgiveness.”And damn it all, that’s her, too, isn’t it? In a long dark coat, a crisp white scarf wrapped over half her face. Billie Lurk and the Outsider, impossible ghosts from the past.





	a legacy

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place about 25 years post-"Death of the Outsider," with the good ending.

The snow drifts across the Tower’s gardens slowly from a bitter gray sky, blending with smoke from the incense the Overseers burn around the gazebo.

Emily hadn’t wanted to allow the High Overseer to declare a Feast of Sorrows for Corvo’s death, but Wyman—always the pragmatic one, always thinking ahead—had quietly pointed out that she was not the only one who would mourn her father’s death, no matter how ironic it would be for the Abbey of the Everyman to give such an honor to one of the Outsider’s Marked.

Corvo himself would have found it humorous, and that was enough to give Emily peace as she watches the Overseers work in the gazebo, saying their sacred rites over her father’s coffin, snow melting on their heavy black jackets as they kneel.

Emily keeps her head bowed, left hand twining with Wyman’s as she searched for reassurance. Wyman gently squeezes her hand back, giving her a tired little smile.

“Her Majesty, Empress Emily Kaldwin, first of her name, will now speak.” The High Overseer steps down from his podium and he turns to join his brothers behind the coffin.

Emily inhales sharply, letting the cold air flood her lungs, as she paces to the podium, the speech she’d written a week ago clenched in her right hand. “During his life, Corvo Attano was many things. He was the Lord Protector. He was the Royal Spymaster. He was a guardsman, he was an officer of the Watch. He was a brother, a friend, the poor son of a lumber worker and a seamstress, the finest swordsman Serkonos has produced yet. He was my father. But most importantly… In everything he did, he believed in doing what is right. He believed in justice.”

Hesitantly, Emily looks up, over the audience. Nobles, of course, and there’s Duke Abele, and the Princess of Morley. Common people, too, standing when there were not enough seats—and what was that? Emily pauses, squinting to see better.  

It’s impossible.

He looks older, but gods don’t age, do they? His clothes are different, solid black and fashionable for somewhere far north of Dunwall, but his face is distinct enough that even wrapped in a Tyvian cloak and from yards away he’s recognizable.

“Corvo Attano was a hero,” Emily says, voice trembling. How could the Outsider even be here? He was trapped in the Void. “He will be remembered as one of the greatest heroes of our generation, but it is my hope it will not be because of whose blood he spilled or the names of those he fought for. It is my hope, instead, that he is remembered for his kindnesses. He was the greatest swordsman in his time, but he persistently sought non-violent solutions. He taught me the values of mercy and forgiveness.”

And damn it all, that’s her, too, isn’t it? In a long dark coat, a crisp white scarf wrapped over half her face. Billie Lurk and the Outsider, impossible ghosts from the past.

“My father would not want to be remembered for violence. He would want his legacy to be one of peace. One of prosperity.” She’s still speaking, but it’s just automatic now, reciting the speech she’d rehearsed every night for so long. “One of forgiveness and love for our fellow man.”

There had been a time in Emily’s life when she’d been so angry with the world that she could see little value in it, a time where she’d held no mercy in her heart. It had been Corvo who had shown her how to deal with it, how to understand that cruelty only begets more suffering.  

“In a world that wanted him so desperately to be the villain, my father did everything he could to be just. In a world that took everything he had from him, my father still believed in kindness. That is the lesson my father would want to leave you all with—that you can always be better. That when the world is cruel and unkind, you do not have to be cruel and unkind too. You can make the world a better place.”

 _Funny how there’s always just a little more innocence to lose._ It wasn’t Corvo that had said it originally, Emily had known that much, but he’d quoted it to her at times, and when he did he’d always looked so tired, like he was disappointed in himself for being unable to protect her from everything. Probably a sentence stolen directly from the Outsider.

Emily clenches her left hand instinctively, though the Mark has faded with the years. She’d never sought the Outsider out after Delilah was destroyed, but he’d never appeared to her of his own accord afterwards, either. She didn’t pretend to understand the inner thoughts of a god, but to appear _now_ —and to appear with Billie Lurk, of all people…

 “Every day we make a choice in how we act. We choose whether we will strive to be good and just, or if we will give in to the brutality of the world. My father taught me to always strive for goodness. I hope that this is the legacy he will leave amongst you, that the collective memory of Corvo Attano is a positive one. I hope that he could inspire you in the same way he always inspired me.”

Wyman’s hand is gentle as it settles on Emily’s shoulder, Wyman coming to stand beside her. When had Emily started crying? She was doing so well, too, she thought desperately. The High Overseer rises and cautiously takes the podium again as Wyman gently guides Emily to where their family stands to the side of the gazebo.

“Oh, Corvo,” Emily mumbles to herself.

* * *

“May I have a moment alone, please?” Emily keeps her gaze on Corvo’s coffin, voice soft. Wyman nods, dismissing the guardsmen to escort Jessamine and Paloma to the Tower.

“ _Alone_ , Wyman,” Emily says, a bit more forcefully, tugging a handkerchief from her pocket to pretend to dab at her tears with.

Wyman hesitates, but finally sighs, following their daughters back into the palace.

There, tangled in the crowd of funeralgoers trying to leave the garden—Void, it would be so easy for Emily to dash after them, she’s not as fast as she once was but she’s still good, she could grab them by their collars and beg answers from them.

For what, though?

Emily knew _why_ they were here—to pay their respects. She’d never gotten Corvo to tell her the entirety of what had happened during the Loyalist Conspiracy days, no matter how she asked ( _There are things best left to rot_ , he’d said, _things best left forgotten_ ), but she knew that they’d both played some part in it.

 _How_ they were here—how the Outsider was here, in the real world, or how Billie Lurk hadn’t seemed any older even though so many years had passed—that, Emily didn’t know, but what was the point of knowing that?

It feels like a lifetime ago that she’d even last thought about Lurk, or about the Outsider in any way that wasn’t to do with hiding her Mark from a prying Overseer’s eyes.

Billie and the man with the Outsider’s face are vanishing in the crowd. If Emily wants to catch up with them now, she’d need to really run, make a giant scene. Maybe get these impractical white boots muddy with the dirt from a flowerbed as she dashed into the crowd, ruin her mourning suit with grime and mud. An action thoroughly unbecoming of the Empress of the Isles.

But Emily stays in the gazebo, and watches the crowd until she can no longer see either of them, as Billie and the Outsider fade like ghosts from a timeline that never happened, melting into the shadows like the snowflakes that haven’t stopped falling since the early hours of dawn.

There are some questions best left answered, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a prompt challenge I've created for myself on tumblr to encourage me to write more. Today's prompt was [this photograph](http://officialclaricestarling.tumblr.com/post/166655040083). 
> 
> talk to me [on tumblr](http://officialclaricestarling.tumblr.com) | [deleted]


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